Purple Lilacs
by crashing-avalanches
Summary: AU - That certain customer kept annoying the hell out of him, and he didn't seem to have any intention of returning what wasn't his; but Heiwajima Shizuo couldn't help but want to present a small bouquet of purple lilacs to Orihara Izaya, who didn't have the courage to return him his collar stiffeners because he wanted to keep a part of Shizu-chan with him. Florist!Shizuo CEO!Izaya
1. Crumpled Collar

_Hmmm too young, too dumb to realize  
That I should have bought you flowers and held your hand_

_~When I was Your Man -Bruno Mars~_

* * *

He doesn't bother looking up when the bell tinkles gently, signaling that he has a customer.

He believes that customers should decide what they want themselves, not him forcing his opinions on them. He snips at the lilacs and trims down the stalk in his hands to an appropriate length and puts it beside the finished stalks before setting it down. Satisfied with his work, he turns his attention back to the rest of the unpruned stalks before picking up his scissors again.

"Oi, protozoan."

The stalk in his hand nearly snaps with the force applied on it. His left eyebrow twitches as he slowly levels his gaze onto his newest customer, who clearly has no intention of asking for his services politely.

"Yes, how may I help you?"

His voice is strained with irritation from being interrupted. Customer or not, he doesn't like being interrupted when he is pruning flowers for a bouquet; he believes that everything for a customer should be perfect and made to the best of his ability.

But still, couldn't the customer see that he was busy? Or at least offered an "excuse me"?

_I am going to kill him if he says one more word in that tone. I'll-_

He blinks in surprise as he takes in the young man before him. He looks roughly about his age, with smooth ebony hair trimmed short that the entirety of his forehead is visible. His bored dull ruby eyes are looking straight at him, and when their eyes meet, one side of his mouth curls up in a twisted smirk.

"I need flowers."

"That's why you're here right?" he snaps back, settling the stalks into neat piles. _No shit, Sherlock._

The customer's lips stretch even more, if even possible, into a even more maniacal grin as he steps right up to the counter and casually places his elbow on it, leaning his face into his palm as he watches him work.

"You are going to wish that you have never said that, you single-celled organism."

He resists the urge to roll his eyes at the remark and instead stands up and brushes his apron off. Stepping out from behind the counter, he watches the lithe young man carefully as he turns around and eyes him in return. They watch each other for a while, like two panthers watching each other, waiting for the other to strike first. Dull red irises meet mocha-brown ones unhesitatingly and unwaveringly, and it was a fair one minute before he looks away and walks to one corner of the shop.

"So what do you need flowers for?"

He feels the smirk on his back widen even more and he bites his tongue to keep his temper in check. Reaching out the set the buttercups straight again, he frowns as he notes that one at the back has already wilted a teeny bit (how did that even happen). He hurries back to the counter and reaches behind it for his gardening scissors.

"-onadate."

He blinks, his hand just short of reaching their target. His head snaps back to eye his customer who is now looking away, just a slight flush of pink on his cheeks.

"Excuse me, what?"

"I said, I am going on a date!" the raven shoots back at him, clearly irritated at having to repeat himself. He humours the customer (after all, you should _never_ make your customer angry), and keeps his grin in, his face muscles twitching from the effort.

"Oh... okay! Any preferences?"

His customer looks around the shop, a hint of boredom in his eyes before swinging back dramatically to face him. He notices that the raven's left collar is crumpled, a contrast to the rest of him; the suit jacket pressed neatly, the tie done up symmetrically (almost close to perfection), his pants ironed crisply and his shoes shined to the point where they flash the moment any light hit them. He pulls in his lower lip and refrains from commenting, instead choosing to abandon the thought of reaching for the gardening scissors. Leaning back against the counter, he fingers his lighter in his pocket, itching for a smoke.

He takes the moment to take in his current customer's appearance carefully. He notices that his eyes are a most unique shade of dull red, which would seem most dead and unenergetic on normal people; but on this man, it seems like only that colour would go so well with the alabaster skin of his. A sharp chin jutted out from a skinny neck which disappeared into the white shirt that he was wearing; the suit jacket clinging to his equally thin arms only emphasized on his lithe figure, his hips seemed to be almost feminine, too tiny to be actually on a male body. He let his eyes travel over his legs, wondering how he managed to keep them so thin-

"Are you ogling me flea?"

Great, they hadn't even looked at each other for 10 minutes and he already had a second "nickname". Rolling his eyes internally, he levels his gaze back to his customer's face and fakes a bored expression.

"No, who wants to look at you? Now, have you decided what you want?"

He is faced with an equally bored expression as the raven-haired man flings his arms dramatically out and fakes an exaggerated expression of woe. Blinking wildly, he immediately crosses his arms defensively in front of him, watching the young man warily.

_You never know, _he tells himself,_ he might be some hot shot CEO so keep your temper in check. _

"Do I look like I know any shit about flowers? No! That's why I am here right? That's why I told you I was going on a date right? If not, why would I waste my time interacting with a single-celled organism like you? Gosh, are you all normal people so dumb?"

_No, you did not just say that._ He bites his tongue to keep himself from lashing out.

_Rule number one of a salesperson: Never insult your customer, no matter how bonkers he might be. _

He clenches his right hand into a fist and takes a deep breath slowly. Plastering a smile onto his face, he walks past his customer and approaches the front left corner of the shop, reaching out for a certain type of flower he already has in mind.

"Why not you consider the pink roses? Many girls like them-"

"Oh god, finally you get it," the raven-haired customer rolls his eyes dramatically and flounces across the room to stand by his side, hands in his pockets as he scrutinizes the different shades of colours on the roses, cocking his head on one side, seemingly to be deep in thought.

He lets his customer lose himself in thought, he himself leaning against the wall and taking this opportunity to observe his face. The young man seems confident enough at first glance, but upon further observation, he notes that his eyebrows are scrunched up just that teeny little bit in confusion and his thumbs are twiddling at the hems of his pockets where his hands are tucked in; pure signs of confusions and insecure of what to do next.

Being indoctrinated to serve to the best of his ability, he decides to offer his help. Well, he is the one who was supposed to serve in the first place.

"How old is your date?"

A quick flash of dull red irises towards him as the customer lazily runs his hands through his hair in an attempt to blow off his awkwardness.

"About my age I guess?"

"And how old are you?"

"Twenty-one."

He rolls his eyes and groans mentally.

"Like hell I would believe that."

"I am twenty-one, whether you choose to believe it or not," insists the raven in an almost childish manner, his aura similar to a child who refuses to believe that Santa Claus wasn't real.

It wasn't like he even liked the idea of Santa in the first place, he thinks, scowling internally.

He huffs in annoyance and reaches down and carefully picks out a few roses of different shades. He selects one the shade of deep red wine, four of which are a rich fuchsia shade, eight that are a cute sheen of baby pink and twelve that are the palest tinge of pink pearl. Gathering the stalks in one hand, he gestures for his customer to move towards the counter as he checks the stems and petals of the roses, angling the stalks at different angles to catch the light.

He slips behind the counter and picks up the gardening scissors, carefully laying out the twenty-five stalks of roses out on the counter. He inspects them as he grabs the cleaning rag beneath the counter top and hurriedly wipes it over the blades.

"Take a seat. This is going to take about fifteen minutes or so. Are you in a hurry?"

The statement eventually ends in a question as he picks up the first rose (the wine-coloured one) and prepares to prune it neatly. He is answered with the person that he was addressing casually pulls out one of the stool at the counter and plops down on it over-dramatically. He slide his elbow over the counter top and rests his chin on a thin palm, watching him work with a placid expression.

"You seem to know what you customers want."

"I have worked long enough as a florist to read people and know what they want flowers for and what sort their recipient would like," he replies off-handedly as he reaches for the drawer that holds the plastic wrapping, shaping paper and ribbons. He selects pastel pink plastic and a slightly light shade of shaping paper, whisking out the roll of cream-coloured ribbon at the same time. He roots around in the lower drawer for craft scissors and fishes out the pair that provides wavy edges.

"Ah, so you mean my date would like the bouquet that you are going to make?"

Thin lips quirk up in a dry smirk as he deftly cuts the plastic wrapping and shaping paper together, making sure not to rip the edges to make them jagged. Rolling the rest of it back into the neat bundles, he sets them aside as he smooths out the pieces, placing the shaping paper on top of the plastic wrapping and placing a few paperweights on the corners to make sure they don't fly off the counter.

"If she doesn't like them, you can come back and I'll refund you."

The statement was received by his customer giving him a smirk of his own as he taps the fingers of his other hand on the counter in a lazy tempo of acceptance of challenge, the only sign of acknowledgement from him.

Internally, he suppresses yet another urge to roll his eyes and instead picks up the stalks, arranging to sole unique one in the middle, followed by the four fuchsia-coloured ones surrounding it and then the eight baby pink roses, which happened to be smaller. Lastly, he settles the twelve roses that are pink pearl on the outside and pauses to take in his handiwork before suddenly walking out from behind the counter again, throwing the calm demeanor off the raven-haired customer for a second.

He leans down to the baby breaths at the side of the counter and selects a few stalks from the entire myriad of white and green there, deftly plucking out the thinner stalks. Standing up, he slides them in at the side and then reaches out for the shaping paper, wrapping it carefully around the arrangement. After a few 'hmmphhs' and 'ahhs' and a fair bit of adjusting, he is finally done with it and he snaps a length of lace-themed tape from the right side of the counter to hold the bouquet together firmly at the base.

As he slides the plastic wrapping over the bouquet, he sinks deep into the silent joy of completing another bouquet, pulling the cream ribbon into a neat butterfly bow and sliding a small safety pin to keep it in place. Dusting off his hands, he presents the finished product to the customer, who accepts it with a slighly stunned expression on his face.

"There. Do you think it's okay?"

It takes the young man quite a while to answer, but eventually he nods and looks up at him, the dull red eye gleaming with life that previously wasn't there.

"I guess this will do for this time protozoan. How much?"

He blinks rapidly and bites his lip in irritation as he walks to the cashier, beckoning to the customer to come along. God, he was still pissing him off.

"Ah, since you are going on your first date with your girfriend, I'll give you a small discount since you have the heart to prepare something for her," he smiles forcibly at the customer and he taps the buttons of the calculator there.

"That will be 3500 yen then."

The customer hands him a 10000 yen note with two fingers and watches him while he takes it and rummages in the cashier drawer for change, the glint in his eyes turning almost maniacal.

"Say, what's your name?"

His hand stills at the question and he shoots an intense stare at his customer through his blonde bangs.

"Why do you ask?"

"Who knows, I might still need your services next time," the thin lips on that equally thin sharp face curve back up into that crazy grin that he wore when he first walked up to him and called him a single-celled organism.

"Well I might not want to offer them," he snaps back, no qualms about holding his temper back now that business had been dealt with. Pushing the cashier drawer shut with perhaps a little more force then necessary, he reaches across the counter and yanks the man towards him by the arm, ignoring the scuffled protest made at the sudden action.

"God, you're going on a date and your collar is crumpled like this, did you even look at yourself in the mirror?" he smooths out the collar and click his tongue disapprovingly. Reaching into a smaller drawer where he keeps his personal belongs, he pulls out two slim collar stiffeners and slides them onto the crumpled collar, nodding to himself in approval when they are properly set in place.

"There, and here's your change."

"Your name, flea."

He rolls his eyes in exasperation. Wouldn't the man just shut up already?

"Heiwajima. Heiwajima Shizuo."

"Shizuo huh?" the customer tests the name, nodding to himself as he tucks the change into his pocket, smirking at him.

"Well then, I'll be off!"

The customer waves cheerily before skipping towards the door. It took him a while before he realises something.

"Hey you! What's _your_ name?"

The raven turned around, the cheeky maniacal grin still glued to his face.

"Izaya. Orihara Izaya. And we'll be seeing each other again, florist-san!"

"Wha-"

He is cut off by the tinkling of the bell, signaling the exit of his latest customer. He sinks down onto his stool and groans in exasperation; that customer had given him one hell of a headache. He had been the most annoying customer that he had in a while, in his opinion.

Orihara Izaya huh, the name sounded familiar.

Shrugging it off, he stands up and stretches, preparing to go to the back to pour himself a cup of banana milk and maybe enjoy a cookie or two. However, his eyes widen and immediately his face twitches into a scowl as he remembers one more reason for Heiwajima Shizuo to hate Orihara Izaya.

"Damn it! He didn't even thank me for the bouquet!"

* * *

**A/N: **

**HEY GUYS IT'S BEEN A WHILEEEEE~ **

**I have been really busy with school work cause well, O levels this year QAQ but I am still going ahead with my writing plans! The stuff posted on my profile are mostly already in progress, and I have decided not to announce this one cause it was meant to be a really special present for my dear Roe! I hope you like it dear!**

**Yepp, my first multi-chaptered in a while, and I hope you guys like it! Reviews are welcome and favorites are great! Just be prepared that it will take a while to update cause well, school's kinda a bitch these days. **

**Thank you! ~crashing-avalanches**


	2. Call Me Maybe?

_It's hard to look right, at you baby,  
But here's my number,  
So call me maybe._

_~Call Me Maybe –Carly Rae Jepson~_

* * *

He cranks up the metal grate behind the front door of his flower shop and slides the latch open, flipping the sign that said "Closed (come again tomorrow!)" to "Welcome! (What flowers do you want today?)". Huffing indignantly, he blows a quick breath in relief and walks back to the counter to check on the order that was ordered the day before.

It had been only two minutes since he stepped away from the door before the bell tinkles and he looks up with a smile.

"Welcom-"

The words die in his throat and his lips immediately curve downwards into a frown as his mocha-brown eyes rake over that familiar lithe body that was far too skinny for his taste and the sharp face adorned with a grin that almost split his face in half. Blinking in shock and horror, the blonde remains frozen in his position behind the counter, his lips parted in a comical expression.

"What? Cat got your tongue?"

He only blinks stupidly and rapidly as the raven glides fluidly, gracefully across the polished floor of his shop and sits himself down on the exact same stool that he had occupied just a few weeks ago. Gazing over the top of the black-rimmed spectacles that he had donned today, Orihara Izaya smirks cheekily at him.

"We meet again, florist-san~" he sings in a lilted tune, never taking his eyes off the florist himself. Snapping his mouth shut, the blonde presses his lips into a thin line before leaning back down to inspect the bouquet of blue irises on the counter, wrapped with crisp white paper and bound neatly with a royal blue ribbon.

"If you're not going to ask for my services, may I show you to the door, _monsieur_?" he asked sarcastically, throwing in the French term to show his displeasure. The raven merely snickers and turns one whole circle on the revolving bar stool before turning up to grin at him again.

"_Nein_, in fact I do have some use of you, but I have decided to take my time in observing you today," answers his recently-confirmed customer offhandedly; the sadistic grin still stuck onto his face like it had been attached with superglue, the glee in his voice made more apparent with the German term. Curling his fingers into a fist under the counter, he reminds himself to take a deep breath before releasing it with the fist. After checking his temper he eyes Orihara Izaya suspiciously, wiping his hands on his apron.

"So, what flowers do you need? Or would I ask, what occasion do you need flowers for?" He shoves his hands into the front pocket of his apron and steps out from behind the counter, cautiously watching every move of his customer. The ebony-haired man blinks in a mock attempt at being innocent, twirling his chair around to face the florist, resting his elbows against the counter, tilting his chin down in an equally wary move.

"Well actually-"

"Shizuo-senpai."

Both their heads whip towards the door, which somehow had opened without touching the bell, thus no tinkling had been heard by any of the two men. The raven's eyes lock with a pair of large eyes which were the most unique shade of violet that he had ever seen in his whole life. Accentuated by a slim face with an equally slim body, the young lady was probably one of the most attractive women that he had seen in his life, other than his girlfriend of course.

"Ah, Vorona. Come for the flowers?"

Her thin lips, pressed into an emotionless straight line, quirks up at one side hearing the blonde florist speak. She shoots him an amused look before gliding almost soundlessly to the counter to stand beside him, which was kind of impossible with the five-inch stiletto heels that she is wearing, he noted. The blonde moves behind the counter and gently lifts up the bouquet propped against the cash register, checking it one last time before presenting it to Vorona with a slight smile on his face in a mock bow.

"Here, and say hi to Simon for me."

"Affirmative, the message will be conveyed," the slight one-sided smirk left the raven blinking for a while as she takes the bouquet from the blond florist and inspects it carefully, before looking up and nodding in approval.

"An inquiry? How much monetary payment will this service require?" Her question was met with a wave and a scoff from the florist, who just waves his hand and smirks over the cash register.

"I don't have time to go see Simon perform usually, so just take that as an apology gift from me," he answers casually. Suddenly snapping his head up from where he was rearranging notes in the drawer of the cash register, he grins at Vorona, "If he demands a card, I'll laugh in his face."

"Senpai, your humour is unfortunately not registered," deadpans the female blond before looking down and inspecting the bouquet. "It's perfect you know," she says softly.

"It's only my job," he shrugs and closes the cash register drawer, walking out from behind the counter. Vorona merely shoots him an impassive look, but the raven could see that there was some nostalgia in her face, maybe even with a tinge of regret?

"Senpai, regarding the previous issue—"

"Stop it, we promised never to bring up that issue again," his voice is suddenly cold and hard as he shoots the raven a hard glare momentarily, causing his customer to cock an eyebrow in query. He merely stares into space for a few seconds before blinking and leaning on the counter. "You should be going soon, Vorona, don't want to keep Slon waiting do you?"

"Ah, your consideration will be taken into account," murmured the young woman with just a tinge of humour as she carefully adjusted the bouquet in her grip. She gazes at the blonde florist while he picks at his nails absent-mindedly, an expression almost akin to pity creasing her pale face. The raven looks at them and turns away, seeming to be unconcerned, but in truth the cogs were turning in his head.

A small _ping_ snaps them out of their individual thoughts and Vorona is the first to react, pulling out a slim smartphone from her pocket. Checking the screen, she sighs and slips it back into the front of her skin-tight jeans.

"Well I believe my presence if required somewhere else," she nods at Izaya and adjusts the elaborate bouquet in her hands. "Thank you senpai, for everything," she quickly steps up to him and plants a kiss on his cheek, making him blink and raise his eyebrows at her. She flashes a small smile at him, just a quick quirk of her thin lips before clicking towards the door, pulling out her phone and answering it in rapid Russian.

The only sound in the shop now was the soft click of the door as it swings shut behind her.

* * *

He registers that they are now both alone in the shop, and the blond florist is now staring absent-mindedly at the door. He smirks to himself and snaps his fingers in front of the florist, gaining back his attention with a satisfied smile as a glare is shot at him and his target retreats a tad too hastily behind the counter. He grins at the blonde's attempt to put some distance between them and leans across the barrier of wood lazily, grinning cheekily at the blonde who is pointedly ignoring his presence.

"I did come for your services, Shizu-chan."

The blonde flinches at the new nickname and a frown creases his forehead as he mumbles incoherently under his breath now a few seconds. The raven waits patiently for him to finish his ramble before angry mocha eyes looked up at him and the florist leans on the counter and puts his face in his hand.

"Fine, what is it this time?"

The raven's head perks up at the question and he chooses to regard the blond florist quietly for a few seconds before sliding off the stool to walk around, reaching over to stroke a pale blue petal of a lavender.

"I need something for someone who is graduating."

He blinks at the lean form, this time draped in a crisp suit, black vest with a red tie. No wonder he's all done up so nicely. The graduation ceremony that he's going to must be of someone who is pretty close to him, if not, seriously Shizuo didn't think that this sloppy person which had a "I-don't-give-a-fuck" attitude would actually agree to attend a graduation ceremony, even if he had been invited. But here he was, done up neatly, even coming with the intention to give flowers to whoever was graduating.

"Tell me about him, or her."

"What?" Izaya raises an eyebrow at him, as the florist walks out from behind the bar and reaches for a small watering can that had been tucked under the counter on the side that Izaya had been sitting. He picks it up and pops open the lid, putting the can under the sink near the counter and letting the tap run as he shoots another look his way.

"Tell me about this person's whose graduation that you are going to."

It takes Izaya a while to answer as he fidgets with his tie. "It's two people actually."

"Well, tell me about the two of them, separately."

He turns the tap off and closes the watering can, giving it an experimental shake before walking over to the other end of the shop where the sunflowers are and begins his daily routines of watering the flowers, checking every group for wilted or overgrown bunches. He waits, and in his mind, he still can't wrap his head around the fact that he is willing to listen to this crazed man, whom he had only met once and already had more than one nickname for him. He hated him from the start, but why was he listening to him now.

"Their names are Kururi and Mairu."

He is roused out of his thoughts by the surprisingly tender tone that the raven's voice had taken on. However, he merely lifts the watering can and continues checking the flowers, his eyes not wavering from his tasks. "Go on," he says, his mouth slightly dry at the fact that this man actually trusted him with his past.

"They're my twin sisters, and they're younger than me and Kururi's the older twin. They're…very different people, for twins," he lets out a small laugh at this point. He is aware of the florist with his back to him, seeming to distract himself with watering the flowers. He shrugs and continues, "Kururi's a quiet person, and she's usually silent, rather melancholic if you think of a better word to describe her. Mairu, on the other hand, is a handful to take care of. She bounces all over the place like a ball and is really energetic, but she's a real joy when your spirits are down. They complement each other well, sometimes you even think of them as one person."

He listens to the one-sided monologue in silence, and by the time his customer is finished, he has finished his watering rounds and is standing beside the raven, his eyes locked on the lavenders in front of them. After watering the flowers, he sets the can on the counter and nods in gratitude.

"Thank you; now please take a seat at the counter."

He pours a glass of water and slides it over to his customer before making yet another round around his shop. He pictures a bubbly girl, with Izaya's eyes and hair, grinning widely and happily, with her hair in a braid to the side, her eyes wide with excitement; and he picks out red carnations with yellow poppies, selecting the smallest ones that he can find the yellow bunch gathered neatly near the front door. He forms another image of a quiet girl with downcast crimson eyes, with her dark black hair cut in a bob, her hands clasped in front of her as the corners of her mouth quirk up in a small smile as her eyes widen with patient anticipation; and he selects bluebells, together with small sprigs of forget-me-nots that are a lighter shade of blue and also small white daises. He carries the bunch of flowers back to the counter and places them carefully on the surface, going to wash his hands in the small sink.

"Will you charge me for watching you, florist-san?"

There was it, the sing-song voice with that annoying attitude was back. He furrows his brows and scrubs his hands free of soap before tightly shutting the tap and reaching for a small towel on the side of the counter.

"No," he decides in a surprisingly civil voice as he makes his way back behind the counter and opens up drawers to pull out craft scissors, pale yellow translucent plastic, sky-blue paper patterned with small white clouds, white tape with white stripes, red tape with yellow spots, foam to hold the flowers in place. He sets the materials beside the flowers and sneaks a glance at the raven who is staring at him, hooded dull red eyes watching him move and pick up the scissors to start work.

He swears that there had been a spark of fascination and interest in those dull red depths.

* * *

"Here."

He silently accepts the two small bouquets and holds them before him, admiring the simple beauty of them. One of them had red carnations with a small border of yellow poppies, held in place with pale yellow translucent plastic and red tape with yellow polka-dots; the other mainly made of bluebells with small sprigs of daises and forget-me-nots nestled within, surrounded by sky-blue decorative paper with striped blue and white tape. He sighs as the sets them carefully on the counter top, careful not to disrupt the neat and perfect handiwork of the florist. He looks up, stretching his usual smirk onto his face as he reaches into his back pocket for his wallet.

"That will be 6000 yen for both."

Surprisingly, the blonde was rather calm as he wiped his hand off on another towel and turns his attention to the cash register. He feels around in his back pocket and frowns as he feels nothing else but the fabric of his pants and his car keys. He digs around in the other back pocket, his frown intensifying as he searches his front pockets and comes up with nothing but a pack of mints, his house keys, his pen and small book of appointments and his iPhone.

"Just take them."

He is dumbfounded at the casual comment made by florist and watches as he walks out from behind the counter and gently slides both bouquets off the counter, motioning with his eyes for him to put his things back into his pockets. He hurriedly crams all of the things back into his pockets and reaches out for the flowers, his bangs swinging forward in embarrassment.

"Ah," he murmurs quietly as he makes his way towards the door.

"You forgot these," he flushes in further embarrassment as the larger form of Shizuo comes up behind him, his black iPhone in the large skilful hands of his as well as his car keys. He must have forgotten them in a hurry. "Thank you," he manages out, reaching out one hand to grasp the objects, but the blond florist merely swings them out of his way and instead reaches for the door handle.

"You'll trip over yourself trying to hold these things, I'll walk you to your car," says the blond curtly as he pulls open the door and the ever familiar tinkle of the bell chimes through the silence as Shizuo nods at him to walk out first. He eyes the blonde suspiciously before walking out of the quaint shop and down the street to his car, hearing the click of the other's shoes on the pavement behind him.

He stops in front of his plain silver Volvo and waits as Shizuo clicks the unlock button on his carkeys and opens the driver's door for him, gratefully sliding inside and putting the two bouquets on the passenger seat. He closes the door and winds down the window as the blonde leans down, silent accepting the car keys to start up the engine.

"Th-thank you."

The phrase of two words had always been hard for him to say. After all, he didn't have to say it very often. He had never felt the need to say so; people were meant to serve him and do their job as humans weren't they? So why was he feeling heat creeping up the back of his neck that had nothing to do with the weather and why was he feeling the need to thank this florist who was no more than protozoan?

He could see the florist raising his eyebrows at the corner of his right eye and instead focuses on tuning his radio to the station that he usually listened to. He didn't feel the urge to drive off yet, but neither did he feel the urge to bite out a snapping remark and drive the blonde away from his car. Instead, he felt strangely content while the blonde watches him; it was almost a welcome feeling.

"You forgot this again."

He fumbles to catch his black iPhone, which was thrown carelessly at him and before he could bite out a scathing remark, the blond florist by the name of Heiwajima Shizuo had already stepped away from his care and was making his way back to his shop, his blond hair gleaming in the sunlight. He watches with bated breath as his object of observation makes his way back into the shop, the small door swinging shut behind him.

Orihara Izaya grips the steering wheel of his car hard and lets out a long breath that he had been holding in since the blonde had opened the door of his flower shop. With trembling hands, he unlocks his phone screen to make a call to Namie to tell her that he had settled the flowers for his twin sisters's high school graduation ceremony, but he stops at a foreign contact that had obviously had not been in his phone before he went into the shop. He stares at the name, the heat down his neck now creeping up to his ears as his heart rate suddenly increases and suddenly opts to send a text to his girlfriend instead. After that, he throws his phone into the glove compartment, turning the silent mode off and slamming the glove department shut as he quickly throws his car into gear and speeds off.

He had a girlfriend for goodness sake, he shouldn't be all flustered when an incredibly hot, blond florist with skilful hands and open ears who was also fun to tease, had helped him with his things, opened a door for him, opened _his_ car door for him and seen him off shouldn't have made him feel like a high school teenager who just had someone confess to them.

On top of that he was a man! A male, a guy, a dude, whatever you could call someone who has a deep voice, an Adam's apple and a penis; he wasn't supposed to feel like a love-struck girl when another male was nice to him. He swallows hard before suddenly registering that a yellow post-it had been stuck on the back of his hand, and it makes his already fluttering heart beat even faster. He rips it off and crumples it, throwing it behind him.

No matter what he thought, Orihara Izaya's mind still lingered on the new contact that had been saved into his iPhone as well as the three words that were written in a lazy elegant scrawl on the yellow post-it that he had just disposed off.

_Heiwajima Shizuo._

_Call me, maybe?_

* * *

A/N:

Well, finally an update for Purple Lilacs! Praise me! /raises hands in mock salute/

Yes yes, you all ask me "Call Me Maybe?" SERIOUSLY? But ah wells I really wanted to use it as a prompt, so I decided screw the original ending, throw in the song, throw in a bit of OOC for Izaya and here you are, Purple Lilacs Chapter 2: Call Me Maybe.

Well, for all of you that followed/favorited this fic, I will be replying to reviews here! So after you finish reading the fic, kindly scroll down and check if I have replied your review! Well, I'll reply to every single on except for this person called 'Xyrilyn' who is my roommate and reads everything off the Word Doc and she just wants to bump up the number of reviews that I have OTL

/runs off to write more fics

Okay replies starts here:

YO: Thank you for leaving your review! Haha, I just came up with the idea of Shizuo being a florist one day and decided to try it out! Thank you and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

kannacchi: Thank you for your review! Ah yes, I am aware of that, but I don't intend on making Shizuo call Izaya anything, so as such I will not be going back to change it, because the name-calling will decrease with the chapters, so I hope it answers you! Thank you again for your kind review and I hope I can live up to your expectations!

Deko-gasu: Thank you for your review! Haha I feel so honoured when you called my fic amazing! It is a great compliment! I hope I can live up to your expectations!

Dreiks: Thank you for your review and thank you for pointing out the mistake I made when setting the price of the bouquet! I've changed it already and well I guess it's a normal price now. Ah about the name-calling, I don't think it will be an issue as the name-calling will decrease with each chapter and I don't think I'll ever go back and think on it again, so I am going to leave the name as it is (: hope you don't mind it! Thank you for reading my fic and I hope I can keep your interest in it!


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